


The Breakdown

by RileyRooin



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Manbun Rhett, Mechanic Link, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rating May Change, Strangers, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2018-11-16 15:43:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11255988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RileyRooin/pseuds/RileyRooin
Summary: Rhett wants to forget the real world, so he escapes to Arizona for a solo camping trip. When his trusty Ford Bronco breaks down, he encounters a flirty mechanic named Link. Rhett only expected him to fix the truck; he didn’t realize that he might be able to mend his broken heart, too.(AU where Rhett and Link meet as adults. We all know how their story began: Rhett and Link met on that fateful day back in 1984. But, there are an infinite number of universes where this didn't happen until much later in their lives. This is the story of one such universe.)





	1. Chapter 1

Rhett was totally screwed. His reliable Ford Bronco, which had been getting him from place to place for years, wouldn't start. This normally wouldn't have been cause for too much concern, but he normally would have been in LA, not all alone on a small two-lane road in middle of nowhere Arizona. He hadn't seen any other traffic since discovering the dead vehicle. The lack of people and cell signal had been appealing while camping (it was such a relief to be free from nagging lawyers for a few days), but now it meant he couldn't call for help. So, there he stood, hood open, baking under the heat of the sun, while staring at the components inside as if some instructions would magically appear and tell him what to do.

When none came, he resorted to the same response he'd been giving off and on for the last hour: a loud bellow and a steady stream of colorful curse words. Then, he returned to his position crouched under the hood.

“Need a hand?”

Rhett started, almost hitting his head on the hood at the sound of the voice. He straightened and found himself face to face with a man. Where had he come from? Rhett examined him cautiously. From his awful, outdated moustache to his too-tight light blue polo shirt, nothing about him screamed mechanical knowledge. When Rhett spotted the vintage motorcycle — complete with a damn sidecar — parked behind the Bronco, he was certain that this man wouldn't be able to help him fix whatever was wrong. 

But, maybe he had a working phone.

“Uh…”

Before Rhett could ask about the phone, the man offered him a lopsided smile. “Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you”

“I'm not scared. Just don't like people sneaking up on me,” Rhett said, annoyed by the implication in his words. As if he would be frightened by a man who looked like the offspring of Ned Flanders and a bike cop from the 80s. Rhett stretched himself a bit taller to display his full height.

The man seemed undeterred by Rhett’s bad attitude and his height. He waved a hand at the Bronco. “It's a ‘92, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“5.8 liter?”

Rhett shrugged. To be honest, mechanical stuff wasn't exactly his speciality. 

The man shaded his eyes to look up at Rhett. “Could be an ignition module failure. It’s a known issue on these beasts. But, it could be a lot of other things, too. Might just be a dead battery. If I wasn’t on the Triumph today, I'd offer to jump it and see if that worked. When's the last time you changed the spark plugs?” His gaze was intense; his piercing blue eyes were almost accusatory as he spoke to Rhett.

“Um.” Rhett kicked at the dirt at their feet. “I, uh…”

“Okay, clearly you aren't a gearhead.” 

“So?” Rhett shot him a dark look.

The man sighed, holding up both hands in a placating gesture. “Let's start over. Hi. My name is Charles.” He held out a hand.

“Rhett,” he said, taking the proffered hand. He was surprised to find his grip was firm, and his hand callused.

Charles pulled his hand back and smiled at Rhett again. “Listen, Rhett, I own a garage in the next town. Why don't I take you there, and I’ll send one of my guys out with a tow truck? If I can look under the hood properly at my shop, I can probably get your Bronco running in no time.”

Rhett hesitated. Was this guy truly a mechanic? It felt like some kind of trick. Then again, why would he try to trick Rhett? And, really, what choice did he have? He could stay there and camp another night in the desert, but he’d be stuck with the same trouble in the morning. Resigned, he nodded his agreement.

Charles led the way back to his bike, where he pointed at the blue sidecar. “Get in.”

“I can't fit in there. I'm a tall man.”

“Do you have a motorcycle license?”

“Well, no, but — ”

“Then, you aren't driving. So, if you aren't riding, then I guess you're either walking or waiting here for the tow truck to get back.” Charles threw a leg over his bike. “I don't recommend walking. My garage is 10 miles away. It’s hot and that bandana isn't gonna offer much protection from the sun. So, what's it gonna be?”

Charles was right. It was more than simply hot out there. It was oppressively hot; Rhett’s grey shirt clung to him where the sweat had pooled on his chest and back. The road ahead of them looked blurry as heat waves rose from the pavement like in an old cartoon. Grumbling, he gestured to the sidecar. He was about to attempt to figure out how to fold himself into the tiny space when Charles cleared his throat. He held out a helmet and a pair of goggles to Rhett.

“Are you kidding me?”

“We’re in the freakin’ desert. You ever gotten sand in your eyes?” As Charles asked this, he busied himself with putting on his own goggles and helmet.

Rhett tried to disguise his annoyance as he fit the goggles over his eyes and tugged the helmet on. “Happy?”

“I’ll be happier when we’re on the road. Get in there, man. I don’t have all day.”

*****

Rhett paced in front of the garage, stretching his legs. He had spent the entirety of the short ride to the small town gripping the edges of the sidecar while attempting to fight the dueling emotions of amusement and anger at how ridiculous he’d looked crammed into it. As he moved in circles, he listened to the voicemails he’d received while off the grid. There were two messages from his mom, both with updates about what Barbara had been doing while she was with his parents. He smiled as he pictured her begging for food and charming the other residents of the neighborhood. His happiness was short-lived, though. As expected, there was also a message from his lawyers with Aimee’s latest round of demands. He resisted the urge to throw his phone into the road, and instead went back inside where Charles was leaning against a wall. He’d swapped out the polo shirt for a plain black button-up. His eyes were locked on his phone screen, but he looked up when Rhett entered.

“My guy was near your Bronco with the tow truck when I called. He should be here within the next fifteen minutes or so.”

“Oh. Good.” Rhett licked his chapped, dry lips. “Hey, I never said thank you for picking me up. I appreciate the help.”

“No problem.” He gestured at a pair of worn formica chairs sitting along the wall near an old table. “Make yourself comfortable. The coffee in the pot is from yesterday, but I can make a new one if you want.”

“No, no. I’m fine. Too hot for coffee.” Rhett lowered himself onto one of the chairs. The cracked, tan cushion offered very little in terms of comfort, but he supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers. He pulled off his bandana to wipe at the sweat that had collected on his forehead. From across the room, he heard Charles snort. Rhett lifted his head to find the mechanic’s eyes locked on him, his moustache dancing as he tried unsuccessfully to contain his amusement. Rhett narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“I just...” Charles took a deep breath to compose himself. Then, he continued, “Is that a man bun?”

Rhett felt his cheeks warm as a blush spread across his face. “So what if it is?”

“Nothing. I didn't realize those were still in style.”

“I could say the same thing about that caterpillar on your face.”

“Touch é .” Charles shook his head.

The men stared at each other, each waiting for the other to back down first. Finally, Rhett scoffed, and pulled out his phone. What was this guy’s issue? Why did he care about Rhett’s choice of hairstyle? He should have trusted his instincts about him. Irritated, he began scrolling through his social media accounts, not reading any of the words as he ignored Charles.

In general, Rhett was not a man who was uncomfortable with silence. Most times he not only welcomed it, but actively sought it out. Charles, however, seemed to despise it. Despite Rhett’s obvious lack of interest in continuing the conversation, he spoke again. “Guess we don’t get much info about fashion out here in the sticks.”

“Guess not.” Rhett stared blindly at the images on the screen, willing the man to leave him alone. Instead, he closed the distance between them so he stood above Rhett, far too close for his liking. 

“Not like in LA.”

Rhett lifted his head, alarmed. “What? How do you know I’m from LA?”

“You mean aside from your man bun?” Charles laughed. “How about the California plates? Or the Clippers decal on your back window? Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because you gave me your license a few minutes ago so I could write your info down for my records.” 

“Oh. Right.”

Charles looked down at him. “You’re awfully defensive. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Rhett crossed his arms on his chest. “You sure do have a lot of opinions about someone you just met.”

He nodded. “I have no filter sometimes.”

“Clearly.”

The sound of the garage door opening interrupted their conversation. Rhett couldn’t say he was upset about this. Charles set to work helping the tow truck driver maneuver the Bronco into the building. Rhett watched as they popped open the hood. Their first solution — jump the truck — was met with no success. Rhett tried to pay attention as the two men talked and joked around while running a series of diagnostic tests, but got lost in their jargon. He turned his focus to the book on his phone and lost himself in the words on his screen.

Several chapters later, Charles approached Rhett. He wiped his hands on a rag as he spoke. “Okay, so I’m about ninety percent sure it’s the ignition module, but I won’t know for sure until I get a replacement part tomorrow.”

Rhett got to his feet, ignoring the twinge in his back from sitting on the uncomfortable chair for so long. “So, what’s the timeframe on that? Do you think I'll be good to go in the morning, or should I expect mid-afternoon?” Outside, dusk had taken over as the sun sank below the horizon. He wasn’t going anywhere that night.

“I have to talk to my parts guy tomorrow. If he has it in stock, this will take me about an hour to fix. If not, he'll have to order it, which could take a couple days,” Charles said. “You might want to call into work for Tuesday just in case.”

“Oh. I’m, uh, between jobs at the moment.” Rhett said, feeling his cheeks warm again. He quickly added, “But, don’t worry. I can still pay.”

“Good,” Charles said. “If you need a place to stay, the motel across the road is reasonably priced. And if you’re looking for food, Joe’s next door is your standard bar fare, or the pizza place will deliver. Not much else to offer on a Sunday night, I’m afraid.”

When he entered the motel room a short while later, Rhett kept his expectations low, but found himself pleasantly surprised. While it was nondescript in every aspect of its decorations, it wasn’t neglected. The room was clean, and the linens weren’t the threadbare towels and bedding he would have anticipated finding. No one would ever call it fancy, but it would be sufficient for one night of rest. Rhett set his backpack and guitar case on the floor before stripping off his clothes and heading to the shower. He let the hot water wash away the collected grime and sweat from a weekend of camping. When he emerged, he pulled on a clean grey shirt, identical to the one he’d been wearing earlier, and a fresh pair of jeans. As he tied his hair back up into a messy bun, he thought about the mechanic’s derisive tone.

“What does he know about what looks good? Everyone’s a critic.” Rhett muttered to himself, smirking at his reflection. In the back of his mind, the echo of another voice, higher-pitched and less kind, commented, “You can't seriously expect me to be seen in public with someone who looks like that, can you?”

He flung himself onto the bed, stuffing the last of his beef jerky into his mouth as he prepared to read more of his book. Within minutes, the silence of the room began to claw its way under his skin. He couldn’t focus on the words on his screen. He thought about the bottle of bourbon in his pack, and his restlessness took over. His legs twitched. He didn’t want to drink alone. He’d been doing that all weekend. 

With a sigh, he walked to the window which overlooked the parking lot. The siren song of the rundown bar across the road, next door to Charles’ garage, called to him. Even though he wouldn’t know anyone in the bar, the thought of being anonymous in a crowd sounded much more appealing to him than staying there, finishing off his bottle of bourbon, and jerking off before falling asleep. The harsh neon red of the open sign blinked out a steady pulse to him. Its alluring pull was stronger than his resolve to stay in the room. Before he could think about it too much, Rhett grabbed his wallet and headed out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated. Come say hi on Tumblr ([@rileyrooin](http://rileyrooin.tumblr.com)).


	2. Chapter 2

Unlike the motel, the interior of Joe’s Bar offered up exactly what Rhett expected. It was the kind of place where everything was slightly worn around the edges and the stale smell of cigarette smoke clung to every surface. It couldn't seem to decide if it was a sports bar or country western one, so the decades-old decorations battled one another for dominance with no clear winner. Being a Sunday night, the building was relatively empty, but the air was filled with a mixture of low conversation and country music coming from the jukebox.

Rhett settled in on a well-worn stool at the bar. The bartender looked pleasantly shocked to see a new face and approached him immediately. On her recommendation, Rhett ordered the special: a pint of light beer, burger, and fries. He was the only patron at the bar, but he didn't mind. He wasn’t there to talk and mingle. He just wanted some background noise while he applied a balm of liquid stupidity to his brain. He already felt better than he had in the confines of the motel room.

He was halfway into his pint when the front door squeaked open. He paid no mind to this until he became aware of a body brushing against his arm as its owner sat on the stool directly to his left. Rhett’s shoulders tensed as he glanced at the idiot who was encroaching on his personal space.

Charles. Of course.

“What if I told you there’s an entire section of the bar that’s unoccupied?” Rhett said, not bothering to mask the annoyance in his voice.

“Then, I’d say that this is my spot. This is where I sit when I come here,” Charles said.

Rhett looked to the bartender for backup, but she shrugged and nodded. “He does. Creature of habit.” She set a bar napkin in front of Charles. “The usual?”

“Yeah. Thanks, Mandy.” He kept a smile on his face until she went to get his drink, and then turned to Rhett. There was no trace of amusement as his intense blue eyes bore into Rhett’s. “If you have a problem with me sitting here, you can move to that unoccupied section you seem to be so interested in.” Once again, the two men were in a standoff. Charles continued to stare him down, even as Mandy set his drink in front of him.

“Whatever,” Rhett said, backing down from this man for the second time that day. “I'm already comfortable. Not my problem if you get elbowed when I eat.”

Charles chuckled, pleased by the victory. He picked up the highball glass and took a long sip of the clear liquid inside. Rhett turned his eyes to the television above the bar, not caring what was on the screen, but also not wanting to give Charles any further attention. As a rerun of a collegiate track and field meet played on the screen, Charles and Mandy kept up a steady stream of small talk, gossiping about people Rhett didn’t know and things he didn’t care about. Despite his disinterest, it was difficult not to listen in on their conversation. Though Charles kept his tone playful and flirtatious as he spoke to her, it was painfully clear the bartender had an unrequited crush on the man. 

To Rhett’s relief, the sound of a ringing bell from the kitchen abruptly ended her awkward attempts to impress Charles. She disappeared  — hopefully to get his food  — and Charles let out a barely audible sigh of relief. Rhett drained the last of his beer as she set a plastic basket of food in front of him. 

“Another one?”

“Please.” Rhett picked up the burger and took a large bite, suddenly overcome with a ravenous hunger. He enjoyed a full minute of glorious silence before Charles spoke again.

“Wouldn't have expected that,” he said. Rhett wasn’t certain he was talking to him, until he continued, “Burger and fries. Would have thought you’d be all about kale smoothies and salads.”

Rhett eyed him appraisingly as he chewed. It wasn't as though Charles looked like the type of man who ate many burgers. His flat stomach and muscles were clear through his tight polo shirt. He said nothing about that, though. Instead, Rhett scooped up a liberal amount of ketchup with a handful of fries and shoved them in his mouth. He licked the ketchup off each of his fingers slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Charles as he did so. Finally, he said, “Just because I’m from California doesn’t mean I’m a walking stereotype. You don't know anything about me.”

“So, enlighten me.”

“You want me to sit here on this barstool and spill my life story over a couple of drinks?”

“As much fun as it sounds to indulge your obvious need to be the center of attention, I was thinking of something a bit different. How about some darts?”

“I…” Rhett hesitated. What was this guy’s deal? One minute he deliberately antagonized him; the next he invited him to hang out? Rhett swallowed hard. Something about Charles made him feel uneasy. To be honest, he didn’t trust himself not to make a mistake he would undoubtedly regret. He should play it safe and head back to the motel. 

Then again, he'd been playing it safe for years, and look where it had gotten him. What did he have to lose? It's not like he was ever going to see this man again after he fixed the Bronco. Besides, it was just a game of darts. He was overthinking the situation. “Sure. Let me finish my dinner and I’ll be happy to beat you.”

“Oh ho. He talks a big game.” Acting like he owned the place, Charles leaned over the bar to reach underneath it. When he righted himself, he held two sets of darts. “I’ll put on some music. When you’re done eating, buy a pitcher of beer and meet me at the dartboards. You owe me a round for rescuing you earlier, anyway.”

A few minutes later, when Rhett got up, pitcher and glasses in hand, Mandy said, “Watch yourself with Link. He’s a charmer.”

Link?

Rhett loped toward Charles, who stood next to a tall top table by the dartboards at the back of the bar. He was in a world of his own: dancing and singing along to the song coming from the jukebox. As he swiveled his thin hips in time with the music, he appeared perfectly comfortable in his own skin. Rhett, who had spent his whole life being a bit too big for most spaces, felt exactly the opposite. It seemed like every eye in the place was on him. He didn’t want their attention; he wanted to be invisible. He hunched his shoulders, trying to make himself look smaller. As he approached the dancing man, he noticed his palms getting so sweaty that he was sure the pitcher was going to slip from his hand. He gripped the plastic handle tightly, trying to calm himself. Was it too late to leave?

When he set the pitcher and glasses on the table, he tried to keep his voice steady as he said, “Brooks & Dunn. Nice choice.”

Charles stopped dancing. “You like country music? Hmm… I think I may have misjudged you yet again.” He winked at Rhett. It was so subtle that Rhett wasn’t sure it actually happened. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks; he quickly looked away. He couldn’t decide where to let his eyes rest, so they darted from a faded poster of Dale Earnhardt to a dusty cowhide rug hanging on the wall next to it. Only when he felt Charles nudge his hand with a beer glass did he look at the man again. 

Rhett took a large gulp of the mediocre beer. “So, uh…” He ran a hand over the rough graffiti carved into the surface of the table. “Do you challenge everyone who gets their car fixed at your shop to a game of darts?”

Charles dropped a hand on top of his, halting its movement. “Only the ones I find interesting.”

Rhett stammered to find the right reply before settling on, “Oh.”

Charles grinned and pulled his hand away. “C’mon, let’s play.”

An hour later, Rhett was much more relaxed. The two empty pitchers on the table had something to do with it, but much of his ease came from his companion. Charles was funny and quick with the sarcasm. He’d kept the conversation going as they’d played darts, drawing Rhett in slowly by keeping the topics light. As they’d discussed music, current events, and superficial details about themselves, Rhett was incredibly drawn to him in a way he hadn't been with another person in a very long time. He hadn't realized he’d missed having a friend until someone acted like one, which was a strange thing to think about a man he’d just met. 

“So, advertising, really?” Charles shook his head, putting a hand on his hip. “I have trouble imagining you working in an office setting.”

“Well, as luck would have it, my boss felt the same way.” Rhett tossed his remaining dart, hitting a 15. “Like I said, I'm between jobs.” He didn't figure Charles needed any of the details of his departure from the corporate world. This wasn't the time or place for a topic so heavy. He removed his darts and scratched his new score onto the chalkboard. He wasn't sure who had won more games, but it felt good to do something out of his comfort zone for a change.

When he returned to the table with his darts, Charles said, “With your height, I could see you playing basketball, but then you wouldn't be driving that rusted old Bronco.”

“Hey! She's a classic.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Charles leaned against the table. A hint of a smile appeared under his moustache as he studied Rhett. “I could also see you wearing a fedora, playing guitar at a farmer's market.”

“There you go with the stereotypes again.”

“Do you own a fedora?”

“Well. Maybe.”

“And tell me, Rhett, have you ever performed music at a farmer’s market?”

“Shut up.”

“Some stereotypes exist for a reason.”

“Okay, my turn,” Rhett said. “Let me ask you some questions.”

“Sure. I know you've been dying to get inside my… brain. I can see it in your eyes.” Charles wiggled his eyebrows. Rhett stuttered in reply, which caused Charles to giggle. “Sorry, man, go ahead. Ask me something.”

“Why did the bartender call you Link? I thought your name is Charles?”

“It is, but my friends call me Link.” He righted himself to line up his next shot.

“So, does that mean I can call you Link?”

“You aren't my friend yet.” Charles kept his eyes locked on Rhett as he tossed his dart. Rhett watched as the dart flew, not into the dartboard as he'd intended, but instead into the wall next to it.

“Nice shot,” Rhett said.

“I blame you. You’re distracting.” He tossed his other two darts while keeping his eyes on Rhett. Only one hit the dartboard.

Charles made his way up to the dartboard to remove his darts. Rhett took advantage of this to assess his companion. He couldn’t say he blamed the lovestruck bartender. Aside from that moustache, Charles wasn’t exactly bad on the eyes. His broad shoulders and arms stretched the fabric of his shirt in a very pleasing way. And yet, his waist and hips were so small. Rhett had a vision of wrapping his large hands around that tiny waist, pulling the man closer, kissing up the expanse of his long neck from behind. He pictured turning the man in his arms and dropping his head to capture Charles’ plump lips with his own. With the way he’d been watching him all night, Rhett could almost believe the man was into him. Maybe with a little more —

No.

Rhett wasn’t going there. Yes, the man was attractive, but Rhett had on beer goggles. He was there to drink and play darts. Nothing more. 

Before he could avert his eyes, Charles turned, catching Rhett in the act of staring. His lips twisted up into a confident smirk as he strode toward him. Rhett wet his bottom lip and rolled his darts between his palms.

“Did you know the throw line for darts is called the oche? The World Darts Federation has regulations about the exact distance it’s supposed to be from the dartboard, depending on what type of darts you’re using. For darts like these,” he gestured to the ones in his hand. “It should be seven feet nine and a quarter inches when you measure horizontally.” Rhett babbled, trying to cover his slip-up. This man had taken his guard down.

“You're probably one of those guys who has random facts for just about any situation, aren’t you?”

“I guess I am.” Rhett rubbed a hand against the back of his neck. “I read a lot. You probably think that's kinda dumb.”

“Naw.” Charles stepped closer. “Intelligence is sexy.” Charles seemed to have no concept of personal space. Rhett took a step backwards, trying to increase the distance between them, but bumped the table in the process. The empty plastic pitchers clattered to the cement floor. Charles laughed as Rhett fumbled to pick them up.

He needed to regain control over the situation. “So, your accent. It doesn’t sound like you’re from around these parts.”

“No. I’m from North Carolina.”

“That’s what I figured.”

“Really? Most people don’t guess that.”

“You sound like my wife.” Rhett followed Charles’ eyes as they dropped to his ringless left hand. “Well, ex-wife. Soon to be. Gosh, I can’t seem to get away from North Carolina.” When Charles tilted his head in confusion, Rhett continued, “My dad applied for a job at a university there when I was young but didn't get the job.”

“Yeah? Which one?”

“Campbell.”

“No shit? I grew up right near there.”

“Of course you did. Next thing you’re gonna tell me is you went to Harnett Central with my ex-wife.”

“Well,” Charles said. “Actually, I did go there, so maybe I did know her. What’s her name?”

“Aimee Mc — Brells. Aimee Brells.”

“No freakin’ way, man. I took her to prom!”

“Unbelievable. You’re the one who got away!”

“What?”

“Whenever she had too much Moscato, she’d talk about how her life could have been different. She always talked about you as the one who got away.” Rhett shook his head. “She's back on the market. Now's your chance.”

“Heh, I'll pass.” He stepped closer to Rhett again. “We were seniors in high school and she started talking marriage. It wasn’t so much that I got away; I ran from her as quickly as possible.” Charles drank the last of his beer. “I didn’t believe in marriage then and I don’t believe in it now.”

“No?”

“Come on. You're in the middle of a divorce. You can’t tell me you’re still a fan of the outdated tradition.”

Rhett rubbed his ring finger, feeling the callus that was still there despite the absence of a ring. “No. I guess you’re right.”

“Now flirting,” Charles said, laying a hand flat against Rhett’s chest. “And sex…” He trailed his hand down until he reached Rhett’s stomach. “Those I believe in.” Wearing that cocky smile, he winked at Rhett again as he pulled his hand back.

Rhett inhaled a shaky breath. Under the fabric of his shirt, his skin felt electrified where Charles’ hand had just been. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d reacted that way to another human’s touch. He knew he was staring at Charles; his mouth gaped open. He struggled to remember what they’d been discussing prior to Charles’ flirty interlude.

“What are the chances?”

“Huh?”

“What are the chances my truck would breakdown here and I would end up connecting with another person from North Carolina? It’s like…” 

“What, like we were destined to meet or something?”

Yes, Rhett wanted to say. “No, I don’t believe in destiny.” He shrugged. “It seems like a big coincidence. It feels like it couldn’t possibly be true.”

“I mean, I can dig out my old photos if you want to see proof that I took her to prom. I'm sure they're in a box in my apartment next door.” When Rhett hesitated, Charles continued, “Listen, I’m gonna hit the restroom. You think about whether you want to come upstairs and see those pictures.”

Rhett watched him walk away, gnawing on his bottom lip. He didn't want to talk about Aimee. He didn't want to think about her. He wanted to forget about his real life for awhile. He wanted to stand here drinking and flirting with this man.

It was nice to be noticed, especially by someone who had caught Rhett's attention, too. But, something held him back. He’d only been with Aimee for years. It had been even longer since he'd been with another man. He wasn't sure he wanted his first time post-marriage to be a sleazy one-night stand with a stranger, no matter how good he looked. And what if he was misreading Charles’ intentions? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d done that. Even nearly twenty years later, he could still feel the sharp pain of the fist colliding with his nose that night in college. Maybe it was time for him to head back to his motel room.

Charles returned from the bathroom, but  —  judging by the shot glasses in his hands  —  had made a detour to the bar on his way.

“I should probably go,” Rhett said.

“One more for a nightcap?” Without waiting for an answer, he shoved the shot glass into Rhett’s hand. They clinked the glasses together and both threw back the liquid. The liquor burned on its way down Rhett’s throat. As Charles slammed the shot glass onto the table, his hand landed on top of Rhett's again. He let it linger there for a moment and Rhett felt a flush of warmth run up his arm which had nothing to do with the alcohol. When he looked at Charles’ face, his eyebrows were raised expectantly. Rhett blushed and averted his eyes, earning another low chuckle from his companion.

They settled their tabs and stumbled out the front door together. Once outside the bar, Charles stepped forward, cutting the distance between them to mere inches. “So, you wanna come see those pictures or…?”

Rhett swallowed hard. “I don't think so, man. I'd better get some sleep.”

“Yeah. Long drive ahead of you tomorrow.”

The two men stared at each other, neither making a move to part ways. Finally, Rhett said, “Night, Charles.”

“Link.”

“What?”

He stretched himself up on his tiptoes and whispered in Rhett’s ear, his moustache tickling him as he did so. “You can call me Link now.” His lips brushed against the shell of Rhett’s ear. He stepped back. “I'll call you about the Bronco tomorrow.” With that, he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away. Rhett watched him go, resisting with everything in him the urge to chase after him.

Back in his motel room, Rhett undid his bun, letting the wavy locks cascade onto his shoulders. He blinked several times, trying to stop the room from spinning as he staggered to the bed. Damn cheap beer making his legs forget how to work. He tumbled back on the bed, landing hard. 

He turned over the unexpected events of the evening, trying to get his brain to focus. The way he felt was a result of the alcohol, nothing more. Charles — _Link_ — wasn’t actually interested in him. He’d flirted with Rhett the same way he’d flirted with the bartender. The way he’d rested his hand on top of Rhett’s… the electricity in his touch as he’d run his hand down Rhett’s chest… the way his lips had brushed against Rhett’s ear… the feeling like they had some kind of inexplicable connection… none of it meant anything. He was probably just charming to everyone.

Which is why Rhett didn’t feel guilty when his hand trailed down his stomach and into his boxers. And if he pictured the lean body of his mechanic while he stroked himself and if Link's name slipped from between his lips as he spilled into his hand? It didn't matter. It meant nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are appreciated. Come say hi on Tumblr ([@rileyrooin](http://rileyrooin.tumblr.com)).


	3. Chapter 3

Monday mornings in Los Angeles were hectic: people rushing off to work, or auditions, or coffee dates for networking. Even while unemployed the last few weeks, Rhett had felt the pull to join the Monday morning congestion of cars heading to the next big thing. His appointments had usually been for Pilates or meditation, but in LA, those counted.

Here in this small town in the middle of the Arizona desert, Monday morning was the opposite. It was quiet. No one seemed in a hurry to get anywhere. There was no discernable difference between this morning and the day before. He'd seen exactly three cars pass by on the main road going through town. One of them — a gold Buick Regal — had disappeared into Link’s garage awhile ago.

Not that Rhett was paying an unnecessary amount of attention to Link’s garage. He was simply observing his surroundings and waiting for the man to call.

He’d been waiting for Link’s call all morning. He'd started the day by waiting in his motel room while a throbbing headache threatened to turn into a full-on migraine. He’d waited at the only diner in town while he nursed his hangover with a greasy breakfast and bitter coffee. And now, he was waiting while sitting in an uncomfortable plastic lawn chair in front of his motel room. He strummed his guitar idly to pass the time, not playing anything in particular. 

He told himself once again that his interest in the call stemmed from the fact that he wanted to collect his truck and return home. It had nothing to do with wanting to hear Link’s voice. The clarity that came with a sober brain reminded Rhett of the importance of being cautious. Better to play it safe and trust his instincts about the man. Rhett was not going to sit and pine for a stranger who was clearly only flirty because he’d been searching for a night of casual sex.

Even as he had this thought, his eyes remained locked on the garage across the road. There had been no sign of the mechanic, even when one of the large overhead garage doors opened to let the Buick in nearly 40 minutes ago. Rhett couldn't see into the garage, but he was sure Link was in there, doing… mechanical things.

When he’d waited what he considered an appropriate amount of time, he returned his guitar to its case inside the motel room and strolled across the street in what he hoped was a casual way. He kept his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans and forced himself to take shorter steps than his usual long strides. 

He pushed open the door to the garage. The bell over the door rang, startling him with its loudness. The only people in the garage — a woman in her seventies, a girl who couldn’t have been more than four, and Link — turned to look in the direction of the auditory intrusion.

“Sorry,” Rhett muttered, feeling his ears warm. “Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“Hi, Rhett. I'll be with you in a minute.” Link said before returning his attention to the child, who he held on his hip. “Go ahead, Bella.” He listened intently as she resumed their conversation, the topic of which appeared to be the dinosaur toy in her hands. His eyes never wavered from her face as she spoke to him. He reacted to each part of her story, eyes going wide behind his glasses as he did so. 

The woman approached Rhett. “My apologies. My granddaughter adores Charles. Insists on coming to see him when she visits me. We’ll be out of your way soon.”

“No problem.” 

She lowered her voice conspiratorially. “He's so good with kids. Part of me is hoping my daughter will divorce Bella’s father so I can pair her up with Charles.”

Rhett smiled politely at the oversharing woman, but felt his gaze drawn to Link again. He looked so naturally comfortable chatting with Bella. Rhett’s stomach lurched as he watched this scene. 

A few minutes later, when the little girl paused to take a breath, her grandmother reached out to take her from Link’s arms. Bella whined and clung to Link’s neck until he whispered something that made a wide grin appear on her face. Rhett hovered near the doorway, trying to stay out of the way as Link helped the woman and child into the car. He spoke in a low voice as he said goodbye to them both.

As soon as the overhead door closed behind them, Link said, “Sorry about that. She's a regular and if you think that little girl will let anyone else get any of my attention, well…” He seemed almost shy for a moment. Then, as quickly as the moment of vulnerability began, it was over. “So, you just couldn't wait for me to call? Had to come see me again in the flesh?”

The shift from soft to flirty happened so quickly that Rhett didn't have time to recover. He laughed weakly in response. “Uh, yeah, something like that.”

Link paused, studying him for a moment before continuing, “Well, anyway, my guy doesn't have the part. He ordered it, but it won't be here until Wednesday. There's a car rental place in — ”

“I can wait. Six hours each way is a long way to go in the course of a couple days.” He swallowed hard. That wasn't exactly a lie. It  _ was _ a long trek back to California.

“Hmm. Sure it isn't because you wanna spend some more time hanging around with a certain mustachioed mechanic?” Link stepped forward, crowding into his space like he had the night before. 

Rhett resisted the urge to step back, but avoided meeting Link’s eyes by staring at the wall directly behind him. “No. I’m a practical man. Besides, it’s cheaper to pay for the motel room than a rental car and gas.” He swallowed again. His mouth was uncomfortably dry. He dared to glance at Link. He looked up at Rhett with an amused expression on his face. “Um, I...” Rhett trailed off. Without the aid of alcohol, it seemed he really didn't know how to flirt. 

Link laughed. “You know, you're too serious. Lighten up, man.” He turned away, the moment ruined by Rhett's hesitation. He returned to the counter and bent over an open ledger. “I'll schedule your Bronco in for Wednesday. I'll plan on the afternoon just to be safe.”

“Thank you, Charles.”

“I told you to call me Link.” He didn't lift his eyes.

“Right. Sorry.” Rhett began to back toward the door. Without the excuse of his Bronco, he wasn't sure he should stay. Not that he wanted to. Besides, Link seemed busy; why should he give a second glance to the man who fell apart like a teenager when he flirted with him? He opened the door, cringing once again at the volume of the bell.

“Rhett?”

“Yeah?” He turned to look at Link, but the man’s eyes were still on the leather-bound book in front of him.

“Did you mean what you said yesterday? You seriously have never changed a spark plug?”

Rhett leaned against the doorframe. “Never had a reason to. I take it to a shop when it needs repairs.”

“Want me to teach you?” He finally lifted his eyes to Rhett again.

“Um.” How was it possible for someone's eyes to render him entirely speechless?

“It's a good skill to have.” Link lifted his eyebrows. “What do you say?”

Wiping a sweaty palm on the leg of his jeans, he said, “Sure. I'd like that.”

*****

Rhett approached the garage later that night, his stomach churning with anticipation for what lay ahead of him that evening. Was this just a quick teaching session? Would it lead to more? He paused at the door, hand hesitating inches from the handle.

Through the glass, he could see Link. He stood at the counter, face illuminated from the phone held in his hand. He looked relaxed, which was in stark contrast to Rhett, who was all too aware of how tightly his muscles were clenched. 

“Wondered if you were about to bail on me,” Link said in greeting as he finally entered. He slid his phone into the pocket of his jeans. 

“Oh, no. I was just —”

“Glad you decided not to run.” Link continued, cutting him off as he moved from behind the counter. “Can’t have you leaving here without the basic survival skill of changing a spark plug. Not sure how you’ve managed this long without it.”

“What is it with you and spark plugs?”

“Just something every warm-blooded American man should know how to do.”

Rhett felt his hand curl into a fist at this statement. From his memories, he could hear Aimee’s voice taunting him about being a “real man.” He bit back a sarcastic response.

His anger must have shown on his face, because Link hurried to add, “It’s fine. I guess you city boys have a different way of doing things. Let me change out of this shirt and we’ll get started.”

Indignant at Link’s words, Rhett yanked the hood of his Bronco open after he’d left the room. The passing of one day’s time had done nothing to alter his mechanical abilities, but he was fuming over the implication he was somehow stupid, so he wasn't thinking logically. He blindly reached for a wrench on a table nearby and clamped it down on something under the hood. He channeled his anger into the piece of metal in his hand, yanking until he heard a satisfying crunching noise. He pulled the tool away, his breathing a bit steadier than moments before.

Link returned wearing a black shirt, buttoned all the way to the top, and a pair of ugly, outdated clear plastic frames. “My working glasses,” he explained, pointing at them.

“Whatever.”

“See you decided to begin without me.” Link gestured to the open hood. “It should be fine as long as you didn't mess with anything under here. You didn't, right?”

Rhett kept the wrench hidden behind his back. He shrugged at the mechanic, and took a step back. Seemingly satisfied by this answer, Link ducked under the hood, reaching for something.  Almost immediately, thick, brown oil began spraying everywhere. He let out a yelp of surprise, and then frantically fumbled until he’d stopped the flow of liquid.

When he turned to Rhett, his face, hair, shirt, and arms were covered in the oil. “You touched something?”

“Oops?” Rhett said sheepishly, holding up the wrench.

To his surprise, Link laughed, tossing his head back in obvious amusement. He grabbed a towel sitting on a nearby stool and wiped his face off. He tossed the glasses to the side.

“That's why I always say: don't give an untrained man a wrench.” He flashed an oil-covered smile at Rhett. “Join me upstairs while I get cleaned up?”

Once upstairs in Link’s apartment, Rhett’s nerves returned. It was one thing to be in his garage. But, up here, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to talk himself out of doing something he’d regret.

Link gestured at a milkcrate sitting near the foot of a gaudy flower-print couch. It was filled with records. “Find some music to put on. I’ll be right out.” He disappeared down a hallway, leaving Rhett alone to take in his surroundings. The space was small, decorated with furniture and knick knacks that were well-worn. Despite this, everything was meticulously arranged, from the books stacked neatly on the glass coffee table to the folded blanket draped over the back of the couch.

Rhett kneeled down next to the milkcrate, his knees popping as he did so. He flipped through the albums, trying to keep his heart from thumping out of his chest. When he heard the sound of Link’s returning footsteps, he said, “You sure do like Merle Haggard, huh?”

Link shot him a look as he slid on his usual pair of glasses. “Of course. Doesn’t everyone?”

Rhett shrugged. “Sure, I guess. More of a Lionel Richie man, myself.”

“Ahh. Well, then.” Link crowded into the space next to him, pressing his hip against Rhett’s as he shuffled through the stack of alphabetized records in search of one. “Here we go.” He flashed the orange cover of the album at Rhett long enough for him to take in the sight of Lionel Richie. Link pulled out the record and set it on the turntable. Soon, the opening notes of “Serves You Right” filled the living room. Link shimmied his shoulders and curled a finger to beckon Rhett closer. “Join me in the kitchen?” He didn’t wait for a reply as he danced his way into the adjoining room.

Rhett got to his feet, following him slowly. By the time he’d meandered into the kitchen, Link was already uncorking a bottle of white wine. 

“So, tell me, Rhett. I know you were camping and weren't expecting to be here this long, but do you not have any other clothes with you?” He gestured at Rhett’s outfit: another grey t-shirt and jeans. Link had changed into another of his form-fitting polo shirts. It was a deeper shade of blue than the one he’d been wearing when he’d rescued Rhett the previous day. It made his eyes pop even more.

Rhett realized too late that he was staring and hadn't answered Link’s question. “Oh, no, I read this book once about simplifying your life by cutting out unimportant decisions like what you're going to wear by having a daily uniform. I mix it up when necessary, but most of the time I wear shirts like this.”

“Doesn't that get boring?” Link poured two generous glasses of the wine and passed one to Rhett.

“Incredibly so,” Rhett admitted. The honest truth was that he’d read the book at Aimee’s suggestion. She had insisted he should follow the advice in it; all the while, she continued to buy herself new outfits. He felt another lurch in his stomach as he considered how foolish he’d been. As if a few shirts could save something that had been doomed for years.

“You should branch out a bit. I think you’d look good with a little color in your wardrobe.”

“Yeah?”

“Not that you don’t already look good, but I’m picturing you in something silky. Maybe a scarf to match your man bun.”

Rhett felt himself flush under the scrutiny of Link’s eyes. He was sure he was going to drop the wine glass. He clutched the stem of the glass. “There you go stereotyping again.”

“Guilty.” He clinked his glass against Rhett’s before taking a sip. “Stay for dinner? Nothing fancy. I’m just making a salad, but I’d love some company.”

The men spent the next few minutes chopping vegetables as they assembled the salad. Link kept stopping to sing along with the music piping in from the living room, his voice loud and strong. He thrust various kitchen implements in Rhett’s face to encourage him to join, but he hesitated. He wasn’t sure he was ready to perform for Link like that. Not yet. Throughout the dinner prep and the meal itself, Rhett nursed his glass of wine, wanting to keep a sober mind during his conversations with Link. It turned out his dining companion was an excellent listener, which is how he found himself sitting at the small table crammed into the corner of the kitchen, rambling on about fossils and how he would have been a paleontologist in a different life. 

“Sorry. I get carried away sometimes.”

“Don't apologize. Your enthusiasm is cute.”

Rhett's cheeks burned again. “My ex… Aimee… she used to tell me I should be happy with the life I was given and to stop spending so much time dreaming.” He fiddled with the handle of the fork sitting on the table in front of him.

“No offence, but that’s one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard.” Link’s tone of voice was matter-of-fact. “What’s life without dreams?”

Rhett bit his lip to keep his grin contained a bit. “Yeah, right. What kind of big dreams do you have, Link?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” He winked at Rhett as he got to his feet, clearing the dishes from the table. He raised his voice to be heard over the running water in the sink. “So, if she isn’t a dreamer, how does your wonderful ex make her money?”

Rhett shook his head slowly as he said, “She makes food-themed accessories and sells them on Etsy. It was her dream career.”

“What? Seriously?” Link peeked over his shoulder at Rhett. “That’s a bit hypocritical.”

“Right?” The two men watched each other in silence. “Uh, bathroom?” Rhett said, needing to collect his thoughts away from Link’s watchful eyes.

“Down the hall.” Link tilted his head in the direction of the rest of the apartment.

Once in the bathroom, Rhett took stock of the situation. He was unaccountably comfortable in Link’s presence. He couldn’t blame the alcohol this time. He’d barely made a dent in his glass. Maybe the knowledge that soon he would drive away made it easier. Maybe it was the softness of Link’s eyes. Maybe it was desperation for some human contact. Whatever the reason, Rhett’s resolve was crumbling around him. He splashed cold water on his face, willing himself to try not to worry and to see where the night took them.

When he exited the bathroom, two closed doors in the hallway taunted Rhett. He knew he should return to the living room, but the pull to learn anything of substance about the man who had him so enchanted was too strong. With a tentative glance down the hall, he pushed open the door on the left. It wasn’t Link’s bedroom as he’d expected; instead, he’d found an office. Leaning against one wall was a jumble of photography umbrellas and lights. He stepped into the room, curiosity overtaking propriety. He was reaching out to touch what appeared to be a portable green screen when the sound of Link’s voice yanked him back to the present moment. 

“Rhett.”

He pulled his hand back, feeling his cheeks flush at being caught. “I was — ”

“Snoopin’ around?” 

“Yeah. Sorry, I was curious and — ”

Link cut him off as he pushed him back against the door with a hand pressed flat to his chest. Before Rhett knew what was happening, Link’s lips found his. Like his flirting the previous night, his kisses were aggressive. Rhett stood frozen, his shock rendering him incompetent when it came to reciprocating the kiss.

Link broke the kiss, but stayed close, his moustache tickling Rhett’s lips as he said, “This is my office. You wanna hear about my secret side job making videos?”

“What kind of videos?” Rhett didn’t intend for his words to come out as suggestive as they did, but there they were, hanging in the small space between them.

Link’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you dirty boy, not that kind. Though, given the right costar, maybe I could be talked into it.” He nipped at Rhett's bottom lip before stepping back.

Rhett couldn't speak. His poor brain tried to process the fact that Link had just kissed him, the thought of Link making porn movies, and the really tempting idea of them making those kind of videos together. He squeaked out a noise in reply.

“Oops? That lack of filter again.” Link shrugged, walking over to the desk where a laptop sat open. “C’mere. If you wanna see, I'll show you.” He gestured at the chair in front of the desk. Rhett sank into it, still in a daze from Link’s unexpected kiss. Leaning over him, Link’s fingers moved across the keys of his laptop as he pulled up YouTube. 

“You make how-to videos.”

“Well, yeah, but they're a bit more entertaining and interesting than the average how-to video. Here, watch this one since I didn’t get to give your proper lesson tonight.” He selected one, a video entitled “How to Change a Spark Plug.”

Rhett took in the video, in which Link took the viewer through the steps of changing a spark plug. Throughout the video, he incorporated his sarcastic humor and some shockingly bad green screen work. Rhett found himself laughing out loud several times, which was unexpected considering the subject matter.

The whole time, Link stood behind Rhett, his fingers tugging at a loose thread on the top of the chair. When the video finished, he said, “Well? What do you think?” Before Rhett could answer, he continued, “Never mind. You probably think it’s dumb.”

“I think it’s incredible. You’re really funny.”

Link appeared genuinely embarrassed by this compliment. “Gosh, thanks, Rhett.”

“Your accent is thicker in here.”

“Yeah. It's all part of the image. Same with the mustache. It adds some credibility to my videos. People trust a mechanic who looks like this.” He gestured at his face. “I can't go too far, though. Like, I'm not gonna slick back my hair or have a tattoo on my face. That wouldn't play well with the YouTube crowd, but I also can't wear my powder blue polo or I risk looking like…”

“Ned Flanders?”

“Exactly. Don't need to fuel the comments section more than I already do.” He reached across Rhett, his hand brushing his arm. “I even wear this.” He held up the object: a simple gold wedding band. “There are certain expectations about my sexuality. People assume that because I'm a mechanic, I must be straight.”

Rhett’s breath hitched in his throat as Link stared at him meaningfully. “And… and aren't you?”

“You already know the answer to that question.” He set the ring back in its spot on the desk.

“Music.”

“What?” Link looked confused at this non-sequitur.

“Your videos need more than the royalty free music you’ve got going on. Maybe a theme song?” Rhett glanced at the frozen image of Link on the screen. It was easier than looking into those captivating eyes. His fingers twitched as the beginnings of a medley floated through his mind. “Something catchy. Like this.” He sang the tune, any self-consciousness about performing in front of Link outweighed by a desire to get his idea into the world.

“I like the way you think,” Link said. Rhett chanced another look at him. His eyes were wide as he gazed at Rhett. “You have a nice voice.”

Emboldened by Link’s praise, Rhett leaned forward and planted a hasty kiss on Link’s lips. 

“Was that okay?”

“It was pretty short. Hard to say for certain.” 

“Well, let me give you another taste.” Rhett grinned, and stretched himself up toward Link. It wasn’t often he had to lean up into a kiss. He kind of liked it. This time, their kiss was slow and lingering. It gave Rhett the opportunity to appreciate the fact that Link’s lips were exactly as soft as he’d imagined. He didn’t even mind the moustache too much.

“Let’s move somewhere more comfortable. I set the mood while you were in here being nosy.” He threaded his hand through Rhett’s like it was the most natural thing in the world as he led the way back to the living room.

On the TV was a muted video of a crackling fireplace, completely decked out in Christmas decor.

Rhett let out a loud laugh. “You do know it’s April, right?”

“Makes me feel like I have a firepit all year round. Just go with it, man; I’m trying to be romantic.”

Rhett bit his lip as he sank down on the couch. To his surprise, Link jumped in his lap, straddling him so his knees framed Rhett’s hips. Rhett’s hands went to Link’s tiny waist as if pulled there by some magnetic force.

Link removed his glasses, leaning back to set them on the coffee table behind him. When he stretched back to do this, his shirt rose up, gifting Rhett a small glimpse of his belly. When he righted himself he said, “I like the sound of your laugh. It’s nice.”

“I think I’m gonna need to hear yours as a comparison.” Rhett shifted his hands, digging his fingers into Link’s sides. He tickled the man, who squealed with delight and laughed. He squirmed, though Rhett wasn’t sure whether it was to try to get away from Rhett’s wandering hands or to seek more attention from them. Either way, his movements against the growing tightness in Rhett’s pants were very much appreciated.

“Truce, truce,” Link gasped out. Rhett halted his hands’ movements and was immediately rewarded with another deep kiss from Link. Kissing Link was easy. It felt natural. Maybe coming here hadn’t been a mistake.

As they kissed, Link's fingers trailed up the back of his neck. His touch was feather-light against Rhett's skin. When his hands found their way to Rhett’s bun, he fumbled for a moment. Then, his long fingers went to work slowly loosening the bun to let Rhett's hair fall around his shoulders. He stopped kissing Rhett to pull back enough to take in the sight in front of him. Rhett knew he looked wild: his messy dirty blond locks must be going every which way. Self-consciously, he reached a hand up to smooth his hair, but Link grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“Don't. Let me.” He ran his hands through Rhett's hair. “I might have to change my mind about that bun.”

“Yeah?”

“Somehow, you make it look good.” He dove forward and kissed Rhett again. This time, Link shifted his weight in his lap. Rhett had an urge to pull his body tighter to his to increase the pressure against his groin. He lifted his hips slightly, testing the feeling. Link responded by rolling his hips and grinding against him.

Rhett moaned, breaking the kiss. “Fuck.”

“Stay the night?”

Rhett hesitated, even as Link continued rocking in his lap. When he didn’t answer, Link’s hand found the hem of his shirt. Tantalizingly slow, he slid his hand under the fabric, letting his fingers explore the hot skin of Rhett’s stomach.

“I should go.”

Link leaned forward, latching his mouth onto Rhett’s neck. “You should stay.” His tongue traced a wet, hot line down Rhett’s neck. His teeth nipped at Rhett’s shoulder and his hand moved up Rhett’s chest. His fingers brushed against one of Rhett’s nipples, causing Rhett’s cock to twitch in his pants. He moaned again, entirely prepared to throw caution to the wind and let Link do anything he wanted with him.

Yet when he spoke again, he was surprised to find himself saying, “No. Stop, please.”

Link froze, blinking up at him. He withdrew his hand from under Rhett’s shirt and removed his mouth from Rhett’s neck. He straightened his body, stilling the movements of his hips. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry, man. I thought I was ready for this, but I think it’s just too much too soon.” Rhett took in a shaky breath, not able to look Link in the eye.

A gentle hand on his cheek guided his eyes back to Link’s face. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. It’s okay.” He kissed Rhett softly, a move that felt almost chaste after the obscene movements of his hips only moments before. He rested his forehead against Rhett’s. “Tell you what: I don’t have any clients booked for tomorrow. Why don’t you and I go do something fun together? We’ll make a day of it.”

“What, like a date?”

“Yes, Rhett, like a date. What do you say?”

“That sounds really nice,” Rhett whispered. “Thanks for being patient with me.”

“Of course.” Link kissed him once more before climbing off his lap. “But, you’d better get outta here before I unleash my charm and convince you to stay.”

“You really think you have that kind of charm?” Rhett got to his feet, grateful for the return of Link’s humor.

“You know I do.” He winked at Rhett again. “Now go. I’ll call you in the morning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize it's been over six months since I updated this fic. Yikes. If you're still reading, thank you for sticking with me. If you're just discovering it, welcome and thank you. I appreciate the support and kind messages I've received. Hopefully, the next update won't take quite as long (I make no promises, though).
> 
> As always, comments/kudos are love and you can find me between updates on [Tumblr](rileyrooin.tumblr.com).


	4. Chapter 4

“Good morning,” Rhett purred into the phone, fully aware of the power of the rumbling baritone of his morning voice. The thought of Link's kisses from the night before brought a smile to his face.

“Hello, Rhett.” 

His smile disappeared from his lips at the voice in his ear. “Aimee.”

“Sorry to wake you; here in the real world, most of us have already started our day. But, it sounds like you're continuing your quest to be the ultimate deadbeat ex-husband.”

He clenched his free hand into a fist, channeling his anger into the palm of his hand so as not to rise to her taunts. “What do you want?”

She laughed, that fake laugh she always used with potential investors. “Oh, good. We're skipping the small talk. I was just wondering if your bargain basement lawyer was actually delivering the messages from mine.”

“He is. But, I'm not at home so I haven't had a chance to consider your demands.”

“Demands. Tsk. You make it sound like I'm being unreasonable.”

Rhett didn't bother responding to that statement. “My lawyer will get back to yours as soon as he can.”

“So, if you’re not home, where are you?”

“That's none of your concern anymore.” Without saying anything else, Rhett ended the call. He felt the anger deep inside of him, burning underneath the surface of his chest. He clutched at the bedsheets, trying to remember the breathing exercises his meditation coach taught him. Eventually, his breathing slowed to normal in time for him to take the phone call from the person he actually wanted to talk to: Link.

A few hours later, they drove down the road—not on the motorcycle as Rhett had expected—in Link’s other vehicle, a silver FJ Cruiser. The residual tension from his conversation with Aimee clung to Rhett’s shoulders and spine. He tried to force it from his mind, but the phone call had been a harsh reminder of the real world and what awaited him outside of this desert oasis.

As if sensing Rhett’s tension, Link reached over with his right hand, threading his fingers through Rhett’s. He squeezed once, not taking his eyes off the straight stretch of road in front of them.

Rhett cleared his throat and broke the silence. “So, where are you taking me?” 

“Where’s the fun in telling you? It’s a surprise,” Link said. 

When he pulled into a parking lot a few minutes later, Rhett laughed. “Your idea of a date is Walmart? Listen, maybe I am a bit of a California snob, but this is not exactly what I expected.”

“Shut up. We're getting you some shorts. It's too hot for those jeans today.” Link turned off the ignition, his point punctuated by the heat that hit them as soon as he’d opened the door. As they walked toward the entrance to the store, he said, “But, you know, if you’d grown up in Buies Creek, you wouldn’t be so quick to knock the appeal of wandering Walmart as a form of entertainment.”

“I guess I should be glad my dad didn’t get that job at Campbell, then.”

Once inside, Rhett couldn’t resist the opportunity to try to make Link laugh. “Are these what you had in mind?” He held up a pair of impossibly small fuchsia shorts, clearly intended for a teenage girl. The word ‘flirty' was scrawled across the back of the garment in a sparkling cursive font. Matching sparkles decorated the waistband. He held them against his body. “What do you think? Are they me?”

Rhett's antics were rewarded with a loud giggle escaping from Link's mouth before he could cover it with his hands. After he recovered, Link stepped closer and dropped the volume of his voice. “You would look so pretty in those, but they aren’t exactly what I was thinking for today.”

Rhett’s pulse quickened at these words. He searched for an equally flirty reply to match the word written on the shorts, but only managed to stammer in response.

“If you’re really good, though, maybe I’ll buy you a pair later. Now, c’mon.” Link walked away, leaving a flustered Rhett to shove the shorts back on the rack before following him to men’s clothing. “I’m gonna go buy some things for our actual date. I’ll meet you at the doors in a few minutes.” He trailed a hand down Rhett's arm as a parting gesture.

Rhett watched him go, eyes focused on the way his hips and ass moved as he walked away. He wet his bottom lip and began flipping through the rack of clothes in front of him. He wanted to take things slow. He needed to. But, Link had an obvious physical effect on him. He’d felt himself growing hard simply from a light touch and a few suggestive words whispered by Link. Maybe he should sleep with him, just to get it out of his system. A thought struck him: what if Link was picking up condoms and lube? This did nothing to help the situation in his underwear. Maybe he should rub one out in the dressing room? This idea was so ridiculous to him that it made him laugh, a deep hearty laugh that tempered his arousal for the moment. 

He quickly finished the mundane task of finding a pair of shorts. They were cargo khaki shorts, utterly unremarkable, but admittedly more suitable for the weather than his skinny jeans. He was going to head for the register without trying them on when an idea struck him. He did a lap of the clothing section, and selected a few more items to haul into a dressing room.

A short time later, after paying, Rhett went into a bathroom and changed into his new clothing. He turned in front of the mirror, simultaneously admiring the drastic change and wondering if he’d gone a bit too far. Maybe he should put the grey t-shirt back on. Maybe the khaki shorts were enough. Before he could talk himself back into his comfort zone, he marched out of the bathroom. He found Link waiting near the doors with a grey plastic shopping bag hanging from each hand.

Link’s eyebrows shot up at the sight of his new outfit. He stepped closer, murmuring a low approving noise. “Look at this: a shirt with a pattern and color,  _ and _ a scarf, too? Consider me impressed, McLaughlin.”

Rhett felt a warmth deep in his belly at the praise from Link. “I didn't know if the scarf was too much. I can take it off.”

“Don't you dare.” Link ran the tails of the scarf through his fingers, and let his touch linger on the patterned button-up momentarily. “Looks good. It suits you. This shirt, too.”

“Thanks.” Rhett was certain Link could feel his rapidly beating heart through the thin material of the loose shirt. Embarrassed by Link’s words, Rhett attempted to change the topic by gesturing to the shopping bags as the exited the store. “Whatchu got in there?”

“Food for our lunch. Bottles of water. Nothing as exciting as a makeover.” He shaded his eyes to look up at Rhett. He was wearing his clear-framed working glasses. Once again, Rhett was struck by the color of Link’s eyes. They appeared even bluer when hit with the sun’s natural light.

“What about spark plugs? Someone told me they’re pretty important.”

“You know, I feel confident we can make it through this trip without them.”

Rhett shrugged as they reached the truck. “Fine, but if we break down and another charming man shows up to rescue us, I can't promise he won't catch my eye.”

Link smirked. “So, you finally admit I’m charming. About time.” He winked at Rhett as they got into the truck. Snapping his seatbelt into place, Link continued talking, “This mysterious man, what if he and I run off together and leave you in the desert?”

“You wouldn't dare.”

“I dunno, man, what if he's got a bun, too?”

“Thought you didn't like man buns?”

“Mmm.” Link traced his fingertips up the back of Rhett’s neck until he was caressing Rhett’s bun. “Told you. They're growing on me.”

They continued their flirty banter on the drive to their destination: a desert hiking trail at the end of a long, winding road. Link’s truck was the only vehicle in the dirt area that acted as a parking lot at the head of the trail. Soon, they were on their way, each equipped with a backpack filled with the food and water Link had bought for their afternoon’s journey.

Conversation halted as they set off, Link leading the way while Rhett followed behind. Although Rhett had experienced the desert’s beauty while camping, it was nothing compared to the area where Link had taken him today. While his camping spot from a few days ago had included some of the same features of sparse, low vegetation and a seemingly endless horizon, this hiking trail was a quintessential Arizona scene, complete with towering saguaro cacti, many of which sported blooming flowers of white and yellow. The plants near the ground were dotted here and there with purple and yellow flowers. Every aspect of the setting seemed to be perfectly placed for aesthetic beauty. 

It was also quiet. The only sound was the crunching of the sand and gravel underneath their feet. With the lull in the conversation, Rhett's mind wandered. He studied the flat expanse of land in front of them that slowly ascended into the low mountains in the distance. He glanced to his left and right, seeing a similar scene in both directions. If he didn’t know the winding road was behind them, he was sure he would have seen the same thing there, as well. His chest tightened as he realized there were so many possibilities before them. They could walk in any direction. His pulse quickened. What if they got lost? What if they walked the wrong way?

He hated to break the silence, but he had to speak, if for no other reason than to get out of his head. “Do you know this area well?”

Link glanced back at him. “I've hiked this area a few times.”

“How do you know where to go? I mean, there's so much… space out here. Everything just looks the same. I feel like there's so many possibilities of where to go.”

Link stopped walking. He gestured to a cairn made out of rocks near their feet. “If you know what to look for, there are signs pointing you in the right direction.”

“Oh.” Rhett’s pulse evened out again.

“Trust me.” Link smiled. “I’m not gonna lead you astray.”

They resumed walking, but Link hung back so he was next to Rhett. The path was barely wide enough for the two men to walk side by side, but Rhett couldn’t say he minded the way Link’s arm and hand consistently brushed against his. This contact relaxed him, and he found himself getting lost in the beauty of the scene around them. He pulled out his phone to try to capture some of it in pictures.

He stopped next to a particularly tall cactus. “Gosh. They're all so much taller than I expected!” Rhett snapped a couple of shots of the flowers on it. He glanced at Link, feeling bold. “Wanna take a picture together?”

Without hesitation, Link slid up close to him, wrapping an arm around Rhett's waist. The closeness of their bodies thrilled him. Rhett took several shots, as if he wanted to frame each picture with the flowers and the cactus in different spots in the background. In reality, he wanted to prolong his proximity to Link.  

When he felt like he'd pushed his luck as far as he could, Rhett made to pull back, but Link angled his body toward him instead. “How about one more? Let me take it.”

Link took the phone and angled it low in an effort to get more of the cactus in the shot. His face was gravely serious as he took his eyes off Rhett to glance at the phone screen. “Bring your head forward a bit.” Rhett did as he requested, a bit confused. “Closer to mine.”

“This picture gonna be us having a staring contest or—” He didn't get to finish his thought as Link leaned forward the rest of the way and kissed him. Rhett forgot all about the picture as he melted into Link's lips. He was vaguely aware of Link’s grip tightening on his waist. He couldn’t help the noise of pleasure that bubbled up in the back of his throat.

Stepping back, Link swiped through the photos without letting Rhett see them. He smiled at the screen. “Yeah. Those are good. Look at ‘em later.” He passed the phone back to Rhett. “Cute dog.”

Rhett glanced at the picture on his lock screen of him holding Barbara. He shrugged. “I wanted kids. Aimee didn't. Barbara was the compromise. Probably better in the end.”

Link hummed in agreement, and then added, “I love seeing a big man with a little dog.” He trailed his eyes up the length of Rhett’s body, not bothering to hide his ogling. “Let’s keep walking. I thought we could have lunch on the top of that hill.” He gestured to the rising terrain in the distance in front of them.

Once they reached the foot of the incline, Rhett let out an excited gasp. He pointed to a pile of what appeared to be white rocks about halfway up. “Look!”

Link stepped into his space, as always a bit closer than was probably necessary. Rhett wasn’t complaining, though. Strands of Link’s hair brushed against Rhett’s cheek as he leaned in. Rhett resisted the urge to plant his hand on the small of Link’s back. “What?”

“Do you see that pile of rocks up there? That’s probably runoff from the mountains. We might be able to find some fossils in there.” When he glanced down at Link, his gaze was not on the rocks in front of them, but instead was locked on Rhett. His eyes twinkled and a wide grin stretched across his face. “You laughing at me?” Rhett said, a wave of self-doubt washing over him.

“No, you idiot. I love how excited you are about this.”

“How could you not get excited about fossils? And this view? Can we go check it out?”

“That’s why we’re here. Come on. Maybe you’ll find a brachiopod from the Cambrian period.” With these words, Link’s eyebrows contorted in a way Rhett had never seen any move before. He wiggled them, as if waiting for Rhett to answer some unspoken prompt.

At a loss, he finally said. “What?”

“Don't tell me you ain't at least a little impressed that I know something about paleontology.”

“I am.” Rhett smiled at the way Link’s face lit up before continuing, “It would be even more impressive if I couldn't see the Wikipedia page you still have up on your phone.” Rhett tilted his chin down to the phone in Link's hand.

He jerked the phone backwards. “Dang it. You weren't supposed to see that, you jerk.” He shoved Rhett in the chest, letting his hand linger there for a moment.

“You trying to impress me?”

“Don’t go getting a big head, baby.”

“Baby?”

Link stepped closer again. “Yeah. You mind if I call you that?”

Rhett pulled him in for a brief kiss. “I love it.” Giddy, he let go of Link’s waist and started up the hill. “Come on, man. Let’s find fossils!”

They spent the next hour or so searching through the rocks, but had no success finding any fossils. Rhett didn’t mind; he couldn’t stop grinning as he pawed through the rocks. Even the heat of the sun baking the back of his neck couldn’t shake his spirit. 

Link, on the other hand, seemed especially frustrated by the lack of fossils. “I really thought we’d find something,” he said as they made their way to the top of the hill. He tossed his backpack to the ground.

“Don’t worry about it. I had fun looking, anyway. Thanks for bringing me here.”

Link paused. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “Yeah, of course. It’s not a big deal.”

Rhett’s stomach flipped at the sight of his shy smile. It was quite unlike his usual flirty one. He knelt and busied himself with removing his backpack. He reminded himself for the millionth time not to fall for this man.

He glanced up at Link, who had lifted his shirt to let the breeze hit his sweat-sheened skin. Rhett tried to avert his eyes, but couldn't stop himself from taking in the sight before him. Link was fit. His tanned back was all lean muscles. Rhett tugged the hem of his own shirt down, suddenly self-conscious about his little belly. He resolved to add more cardio into his routine when he got back to LA.

Lunch consisted of a casual meal of deli sandwiches, freshly cut fruit, vegetables and water. They sat side-by-side, eating and talking. As they ate, the men discussed safe topics: movies, music, books, and adventures from their childhoods. It seemed to Rhett they could talk forever without running out of topics. He felt a twinge of sadness that he would be leaving Link tomorrow.

“Back in a minute,” Link said. “Too much water.”

Rhett nodded, shoving the last of his sandwich into his mouth as he looked out over the view. He thought about capturing a few more pictures, but decided to take in the scenery and be in the moment. 

He jumped when Link sat next to him again. “You’re never gonna believe what I found while I was taking a leak.” He pressed a rock into Rhett’s hand.

Rhett turned it over to discover a hastily done picture of a dinosaur drawn on it in Sharpie. He bit back the laugh that threatened to escape at the sight of it. “I don’t even know what to say.”

“Totally period accurate. What a specimen, eh?”

Rhett nodded. “Paleontologists have definitely never seen one in such pristine shape. Everyone talks about the miniature  _ T. rex _ of the Sonoran desert, but you hardly ever see one in such good condition. This fossil could be worth millions. You sure you want to just give it to me?”

“We’ll split the profit, minus the cost of repairing your Bronco.”

“Seems fair to me.” Rhett slid the rock into his pocket. “I’ll hold onto it for safekeeping.”

They shared another shy smile. Rhett wasn’t sure if he liked the flirty Link or this shy Link better. 

“Well, should we head back?” Link said, dragging his hand across the back of his hair.

“Yeah. Guess we can’t stay here forever.” Rhett shrugged. The truth was that spending time out here like this with Link was the best day he had experienced in a very long time. He didn’t want it to end.

The hike back flew by. When they neared the parking lot, Rhett slowed his pace so he was practically shuffling his feet in the sand. He didn’t want this date to be over. Fortunately, Link seemed to be in no hurry to end the day, either. He opened the back door of the FJ and sat in the trunk area. He patted the space next to him in invitation. Rhett sank down.

After a moment, Link said, “So, can I ask you, did something happen this morning? You seemed pretty tense when I picked you up.”

Rhett kept his eyes on their dangling feet, watching the way Link's boots moved as he swung his legs. “Aimee called me. It was a reminder of the real world, but also…”

“Yeah?”

“It’s like I don’t even recognize her on the rare occasions when we talk. It’s like she became a different person. She’s not the woman I married or fell in love with.”

“People change. Maybe it was time for her to move on.”

“Move into the arms of another man? Who happened to be a friend and coworker? A man who I may have punched in the face when I found out?”

“Seriously?”

“Did I mention this happened at the office and is the reason I’m currently between jobs?”

“Oh, Rhett.” Link’s voice was not filled with pity, as Rhett had expected, but instead a soft understanding. He took Rhett’s hand in his, moving closer so their arms were pressed together.

Rhett took in a deep breath. He couldn’t believe he was sharing all of this with Link, but now that the floodgates were opened, he couldn’t stop himself. “It’s my own fault. I thought it would be fun for a group of us from the office to hang out. Tom was recently divorced, and I thought Aimee was just being nice to him. I guess she and Tom hit it off a little too well.” Rhett ran a hand over the length of his beard, still not wanting to look at Link. “Anyway, she called me this morning to harass me about the divorce. She wants the house. I don’t even care that much about it and I don’t want her back, but it makes it all feel so real... Like it’s really the end of my marriage.” He felt the prickling sensation in his eyes signaling the beginning of tears and quickly blinked his eyes several times. He wasn't going to cry. Not now.

After a moment of silence, Link finally spoke. “Endings aren’t a bad thing, Rhett.”

“Because they lead to new beginnings?”

“If you wanna take the optimistic approach, sure.” Link pulled his hand away.

“You're so cynical about romance.”

“Cynical or realistic. It could go either way.”

“But, why? If I, a man who had his heart ripped out by the person he thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with, can still find hope when it comes to love, why can't you?” Rhett finally looked at Link. His eyes were focused on the scenery in front of them. 

“It’s complicated. Here’s the short version: My parents divorced when I was young. They both remarried multiple times. That showed me love isn’t limited to one person. There’s no such thing as soul mates.” Link turned his eyes to Rhett’s face. “You find someone you connect with and let it run its natural course. When it’s done, it’s done. You move on and find someone new.” 

Rhett wanted to press him for more information. He was sure there was more to the story than simply divorced parents. But, he hesitated, not wanting to overstep. He opted to change tactics instead. “What about friendships? Surely you've got some friends from when you were younger?”

He felt Link shrug. “I keep in touch with people the same way everyone does now: social media, which for most of them means the occasional birthday post. I was a bit of a chameleon when I was younger. Moved from group to group and never really had a best friend.”

“Well, now I’m thinking my dad should have gotten that job. I might have met you sooner.”

“Yeah, but maybe I would have hated you. The chances of us being friends as kids hinges on your answer to one question: Did you have that man bun when you were young?”

“Shut up.” Rhett smacked his arm with the back of his hand. “Listen to me, what if we'd met as kids, become best friends, and were still friends today?”

“Come on; that's too unbelievable. No one meets someone as a kid and stays best friends forever.”

“Yeah. You're probably right.”

Link leaned closer, his breath warm against Rhett’s neck. When he spoke, his voice was low and honeyed. “Now, quit worrying about what coulda been, and focus on what's about to happen.”

“What's that?”

Link nipped at his neck. “This.” Seconds later, he was in Rhett’s lap like he had been the night before. He didn’t seem to mind the sweat clinging to every inch of Rhett’s body as he lowered them further into the back of the vehicle. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but with Link’s body lying on top of his, comfort wasn’t his highest priority. Instead, Rhett concentrated on the way Link’s mouth moved languidly against his. Even with the back seats folded down, the trunk wasn’t particularly spacious. That left them little room for movement. Still, feeling emboldened, Rhett slid his hands down Link’s back to cup his pert ass. At this touch, Link moaned into his mouth.

“Fuck, Rhett,” Link whimpered. “Your hands.” He didn’t finish this thought as he brought their mouths together again, his kisses much needier. Rhett squeezed Link’s ass in response.

Rhett couldn’t say how long they remained this way, just that when they finally broke apart, his back was stiff and his lips were puffy and raw. They sat back up and he saw the sun was beginning to set. He wrapped his arm around Link, who snuggled against him. They sat together in silence, enjoying the beauty of the colorful sunset.

“Link?” Rhett whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for today. It was a lot of fun.”

“Oh, it’s not over yet. The night is still young.”

Rhett’s heart thumped in his chest at what Link’s words might imply. He tried to keep his tone light as he said, “Another Walmart trip? Are we going back to get those tiny shorts?”

“Well, we are  _ now _ .” Link’s body shook as he giggled against Rhett’s chest. “No, I have something else planned. You game for a bit more time with me?”

_ Like forever? _ Rhett’s traitorous brain chimed in. Thankfully, he kept this utterly ridiculous thought to himself. He settled on replying, “I suppose I could be talked into that, yeah.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Why is there a carnival set up on a Tuesday in April?”

Link shrugged as they walked toward the flashing lights of the carnival. “Why not? It's not like we're somewhere cold like Minnesota or something.”

“True.”

“Also, it’s spring break time. Lots of tourists and locals off school right now.” He led the way into the unexpectedly large crowd of people.

Rhett felt an overwhelming urge to take Link’s hand as they wandered through the midway, but knew this probably wasn’t the time or the place. Instead, he focused on taking in the atmosphere of the carnival. The inviting scents of deep fried foods and popcorn mingled with the fumes of the diesel generators. Even though he wasn’t particularly hungry, the sight of corn dogs made his stomach rumble. He didn’t have time to think too much about that as the ear-assaulting techno music pulsing out beats from the rides drew his attention as they strolled past.

Link seemed to have no interest in any of the rickety rides. Instead, he led Rhett to the rows of games. “I think you should win me a prize.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, man. I found that rare fossil for you; the least you could do is win me a freakin’ teddy bear.”

“And, what, you’re just gonna stand there and watch?”

Link shoved his shoulder. “Hardly. I’m gonna try to win, too, because I don’t know if you actually have the skills to do it.”

Riled up by this playful taunt, Rhett went into competitive mode. “I’ll show you some skills. Come on.” They tossed rings at bottles, threw baseballs, and shot poorly aimed cap guns at targets. At first, both of them were relatively stoic, but with each game, they celebrated or lamented more vehemently. Neither was successful enough to win any prizes beyond cheap keychains, but if Link was going to keep hugging him like that, Rhett would win him enough keychains to fill his entire apartment. By the time they got to the basketball game, Link was encouraging Rhett like he was in a state championship game. Briefly, Rhett wondered if that's how life might have gone if he’d moved to North Carolina. He had a clear vision of Link on the sidelines, cheering for him as he raced up and down the court. He was struck by a longing he couldn’t quite explain. It seemed so real.

He refocused on shooting the overinflated balls into the tiny hoop. One more shot and he would win Link his coveted prize. He took a deep breath, lined up the shot, and watched as the ball swished perfectly through the hoop.

“Yeah!” Link’s arms encircled his waist and Rhett felt himself lifting into the air. “You did it, man!” He twirled Rhett around a few times before setting him back on the ground.

Rhett stared at him, mouth agape as Link picked out which stuffed animal he wanted. He turned to face Rhett, holding the stuffed bear against his body. When he spotted Rhett’s expression, he said, “What?”

“You… You picked me up like I weighed nothing.”

Link smiled. “You don’t weigh that much, Rhett. You’re basically made up of long limbs, beard, and bun.” He laughed, hugging his bear tighter. “Thanks for winning me this fabulous prize.”

“Knew my basketball skills would come in handy one day.”

“So, if you’re so good, how come you aren’t a professional?” Link asked as they found a spot to sit at a nearby picnic table. Both men sat on the same side of the table, no space to be found between their bodies.

“Professional? Ha. Yeah, probably not.” Rhett leaned closer, wanting to soak in as much attention from Link as he could possibly get before the night was over. “I think, maybe, if my dad hadn’t been so busy teaching law at Pepperdine, he would have pushed me harder in basketball and I coulda played college ball. I always need someone to tip me over the edge, I guess.” He paused, feeling the familiar blush of embarrassment he'd begun to associate with talking to Link. “Gosh, man. You have a way of making me say things I wouldn’t say to another person.”

“It’s that charm again. What can I say?”

“Clearly.”

They gazed at each other. Rhett held Link’s stare, even though he thought he might get lost in his eyes. Finally, Link spoke, using a soft voice, “You hungry? Want a corn dog and some lemonade?”

“Yeah, sure. That sounds great.”

“Be right back.”

Rhett watched Link walk away. He knew it wasn’t real. He was aware the situation with Link was all fun and games, but there was a part of him that felt a connection which far exceeded his physical attraction to the mechanic. He tried to shake it off and adopt Link's laissez faire attitude about romance. He needed to simply remember that whatever was going to happen would happen.

Determined to regain some level of control over the situation, Rhett spoke immediately when Link returned with their food. “I feel like I've been revealing all this stuff about myself. Tell me something about you,” Rhett said. Link lowered his eyes as the beginnings of what Rhett recognized as his flirty smile played at the corners of his mouth. Before he could deflect with teasing words, Rhett added, “Something real, I mean. Not something about your romantic prowess.”

“Fair enough.” Link took a long sip of his lemonade before he spoke again. “Am I the first man you've been with, Rhett?”

“I thought we were gonna talk about you.”

Link waved a hand dismissively. “I'm getting there. Answer the question.”

“There were a couple of guys in college, but nothing serious. And then I met Aimee.”

“Hmm. So, you're probably not out to your family, right?”

Rhett pictured attempting to have that conversation with his parents. It was not a pleasant scene to visualize. “Not exactly, no.”

Link bit his corn dog and chewed thoughtfully. Then he said, “Where I grew up, it was expected that you’d meet a girl and marry her. It was part of the college experience.” He absentmindedly tapped a finger against his lip before continuing. “I played along because that’s what I was supposed to do. I was good at playing that part. I’d already spent so much time pretending to be someone I wasn’t because everyone in my life made it pretty dang clear that it wasn’t okay to be this way. So, I almost got married to a woman. I liked her well enough, but I didn’t love her. Not the way she needed or deserved.” He took another sip of lemonade. “And, then, one day, I just couldn’t take it anymore.  I broke down and told her the truth about who I am. When I came out… Well, let’s just say that none of the people in my life took it very well. So, I moved out here to start a new life for myself.”

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about this.” Rhett resisted the urge to pull him into a hug.

“No, no, it’s fine.” Link shook his head. “Eventually, my parents came around. We have a shaky understanding, but it took a lot of work.”

Rhett wasn’t sure what to say. He stuffed the last of his corn dog into his mouth as he searched his mind for any words that would be fitting. He found none.

It seemed Link wasn’t finished talking quite yet. “Marriage has always felt like a bit of a sham to me. I watched my friends marry people they didn’t love because it was what was expected of them. I watched men I knew weren’t straight throw themselves into miserable marriages. I just… I don’t want that in my life. I’d rather stick with what works best for me.”

“Oh.”

“You asked for something real, so there it is.” He shrugged. With a glance at the people around them, he leaned closer so he could whisper in Rhett’s ear, “Besides, if I was married I wouldn’t have met you. And I’m enjoying watching you blush every time I get a little too close.” He winked at Rhett as he pulled back.

After they finished their meal, they walked in the direction of Link’s truck. He skidded to a halt in front of a tent. His eyes lit up as he pointed at the sign for the caricature artist. “We have to! To commemorate your new style!” He dragged Rhett inside.

The woman inside the tent was dressed in a long, flowing dress decorated in deep purples and blues. Bright orange threads accented the darker splotches of color. “Welcome, gentlemen. Would you like a simple sketch, or would you prefer a more detailed one with a background and setting?”

Link barely glanced at Rhett before saying, “With a background and setting, of course.”

“Yeah,” Rhett chimed in. “Something fun and whimsical.”

“I can do that.” She gestured at a pair of wooden chairs set up in front of her easel. “Please, sit.”

She set to work, studying them as she drew. Rhett was acutely aware of how Link's body pressed against his from shoulder to elbow. He leaned into the touch, glad that the serious nature of their conversation hadn’t ruined the mood between them.

“How long have you two been friends?”

“We met on Sunday.”

“Huh.” She tilted her head to the side. “Wouldn’t have guessed that. I get the impression your souls are linked together.” After this proclamation, she continued working on the artwork, making small talk here and there, but mostly concentrated her attention on the picture.

Rhett’s heartbeat quickened. Was there some truth to her words? If this stranger could see it, maybe he wasn’t wrong to feel the way he did. What if her words were just what Link needed to hear to change his mind about the situation between them?

After the art session, once outside the tent, Link moved in close and muttered, “Can you believe her? Our ‘souls are linked together.’ What a charlatan.”

“Yeah, right.” Rhett answered automatically, ignoring the pang of disappointment at Link’s words. Of course he hadn’t been swayed. He’d been very clear about his beliefs. Rhett concentrated on the finished artwork in his hands. In the picture, he and Link were sitting back-to-back on a seesaw. Link had one leg popped out playfully. “I do love this drawing, though.”

“You keep it. Put it in a frame and hang it up in your new place.” Rhett felt his gaze softening as Link looked up at him. Link blinked a few times. “Should we head back?”

Rhett didn't want the date to end, but short of spending more money, he didn't know how to extend it any longer. “I guess we should, yeah.”

Neither of them talked the entire drive back; instead they gently caressed each other’s hands as they made their way back to Link’s garage. Once inside, they lingered near the front counter, chatting and moving progressively closer together. Rhett's hand rested flat on the glass surface of the counter, while Link traced tiny circles on the back of his hand.

“So, do you wanna come upstairs?” Link said. He stood so close to Rhett that his head was almost tilted all the way back so he could maintain eye contact with Rhett.

“More than anything,” Rhett breathed out in reply.

“Come on.” For the second night in a row, Rhett followed Link up the steps into his apartment. He could practically hear his heart pumping his blood in his ears. He was exhilarated. He was terrified. He wanted everything, but didn't know where to start.

“Do you have a washcloth or something so I can clean up a bit?”

“Of course.” Link dug in a closet until he found the linens. He passed them to Rhett, letting their hands brush as he did so.

In the bathroom, Rhett washed his face and neck off, hoping to get rid of some of the accumulated sweat and filth from hiking. He hastily ran the washcloth under his armpits and between his legs. He could probably use a shower, but this would have to do. As he patted his face dry with the towel, he nodded confidently into the mirror. He could do this. He trusted Link to catch him if he faltered.

“I'm in here, Rhett.” Link’s voice came from the only room Rhett had yet to visit in the apartment. He pushed the door open to find Link standing in front of a king sized bed. “Thought you might appreciate these.” He gestured at the bed.

“Are those silk sheets?”

Link nodded. “I like the way they feel against my skin. You should try it. Take off your shirt and lie down.”

Rhett laughed. “I think you’re just tryin’ to get me naked.”

“And what if I am?” Without giving him a chance to answer, Link moved forward. Maintaining eye contact, he untied the knot of the scarf. He pulled on it until it fluttered to the floor. “Can you blame me if I want to see all of you?” He set to work unbuttoning each button on Rhett’s shirt. Throughout all of this, he held Rhett’s gaze, never wavering. Rhett’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. Link slid the shirt off his shoulders so it joined the scarf on the carpet.

Standing there in only the khaki shorts, Rhett fought the urge to cover himself as Link’s eyes took in his shirtless form.

“Oh, Rhett,” Link’s voice was low, his eyes hooded as he scanned Rhett’s body. “You are quite a sight to behold.”

Rhett’s face flushed. He could feel the heat burning in his cheeks and ears. He attempted to put on an air of bravado. “That’s right. I’m pretty damn impressive.” He raised his eyebrow.

Link giggled, a sound Rhett had quickly decided was one of his favorites in the world. “I can’t take you seriously when you make that face.”

“What face?” Rhett made his eyebrow jump up and down. “This one?”

Link slapped his chest lightly. “Yes, that one. Stop it! You look like your eyebrow is about to leap off your face.”

“I think you mean I look sultry,” Rhett purred, pulling Link against him so he could kiss him deeply. When Link’s hands gripped at his back, Rhett stepped back. He gestured at the bed. “Gotta check out those sheets.” He flung himself down, groaning as the smooth fabric slid against his bare skin. “Oh, Link. I'm never leaving this bed. You'd better come join me before I claim this entire thing for myself.”

Link grinned. He set his glasses on top of his dresser and pulled his shirt over his head. He put his hands on his hips, posing dramatically. He rolled his pelvis in a way that was incongruently sexy compared to the goofy expression on his face. When he spoke, his voice was husky, but with a hint of joking in it. “You like what you see, big boy?”

Rhett propped himself up against the pillows at the head of the bed. Yes, he very much liked what he could see. Shirtless, it was even easier to make out the lithe muscles of Link’s chest and belly. Without a shirt to hide his broad shoulders, impressively large arms, and tiny waist, Link looked even better. Rhett all but groaned out his answer. “Oh, yeah. But, you're too far away. C’mere.”

Link crawled up the bed until he straddled Rhett's body. He lowered himself so they were flush against one another. Having Link’s naked chest against his own took Rhett’s breath away. “This better?”

Rhett kissed him in reply. Their kisses were unhurried. As their lips and tongues moved together, their hands trailed up and down each other’s bodies. Rhett’s chest sparked with electricity in each spot Link’s fingers touched. As their kisses grew in intensity, Rhett was vaguely aware of lifting his hips in response to Link’s hands fumbling with the button on his shorts. He followed suit, helping Link strip off his shorts, too.

Link broke their kiss and flung himself on his back. Rhett rolled onto his side and took in the sight of Link’s nearly naked body. Almost reverently, Rhett lay a hand on Link’s chest. He moved his hand against Link’s skin tentatively, encouraged by the heat radiating from his body.

“Is this okay?”

Link blinked at Rhett. He bit down on his lip, nodding and squirming his hips in response.

Here in the dimly lit room, Rhett allowed himself to let go of his inhibitions as he explored the body of the man laid out in front of him. Rhett used his tongue to trace four letters onto the taut skin of his stomach: L-I-N-K. He continued his path down Link's stomach. The skin was salty and sticky from residual sweat, but this didn't deter him.

Link giggled and squirmed. “Your beard tickles.” Rhett made as if to move away, but Link's hands tangled in his hair to hold him near his body. “No. Don't stop.”

Rhett continued his slow study of Link’s form. His hands traced the shape of Link's arms as his mouth moved up his chest again. He stopped to give each nipple some attention, using the sounds coming from Link's mouth as a guide of what the man preferred. Rhett looked up at Link's long neck and made that his mouth's next destination. He lapped at the tendons in Link's neck and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the prominent Adam’s apple, wanting to taste every inch of Link's skin. Feeling a burst of courage, Rhett slid a hand down so he could palm the prominent bulge in Link's boxer briefs. Link let out a soft moan and pulled Rhett up to kiss him.

When their mouths met again, Link's kisses were needier than before. He growled into Rhett's mouth. In a surprising feat of strength, he pushed Rhett onto his back and straddled him. He rocked against Rhett, their erections separated only by the fabric of each of their pairs of underwear.

“You feel so good, but I want to taste you, too.” He bit lightly on Rhett’s bottom lip. “Is that okay, baby?”

In reply, Rhett spread his arms out, allowing Link unfettered access to explore the expanse of his body with his mouth and hands.

Link eagerly accepted. He was impatient, as if he wanted Rhett to feel as frantically turned on as he was. As if he needed Rhett to join him on this journey toward all-consuming lust. Rhett gave in, letting himself experience every nip of Link's sharp teeth and each time his lips and tongue sucked just a little bit too hard. He was sure he would have marks the next day. Link mimicked Rhett’s earlier actions and ran his hand across Rhett's underwear.  Rhett gripped at the sheets, using the feeling of them in his hands as a way to ground himself. How was it that the pass of a hand over fabric-covered skin could feel so damn good?

When Link pulled back, his hair was wild. “Fuck, Rhett. Want to see all of you.”

Rhett hastily pulled his underwear off. He watched as Link did the same. Rhett knew he shouldn’t stare, but Link was—without a doubt—the most beautiful human he’d ever seen naked. Habitually, he licked his bottom lip. When he lifted his eyes away from Link’s cock, he found Link watching him, eyes dark and almost predatory.

Rhett hesitated, unsure of what to do next. Did Link expect they would have sex? And how did that even work? Rhett had never gone further than a blowjob with another man. And although he sometimes used a finger or two on himself in the shower, he wasn't sure it was enough preparation to take the impressive length of Link's dick. Or would Link want to be fucked? Rhett had a vision of Link on all fours, face squished against the sheets as Rhett pounded into him. He couldn't say he didn't like the image, but he wasn't sure if he was ready for that yet, either. So, he sat frozen, not touching Link, not saying a word as they sat facing one another on the bed

“You still with me?” Link's voice was kind, no hint of impatience in it. His franticness had been tempered for the moment.

“Yes. I just… I'm kind of at a loss of what to do next.” Any sense of boldness had disappeared.

“Well, let me show you.” He positioned a pillow behind himself at the head of the bed, legs stretched out in front of him. He patted the spot next to him. Rhett moved so they were sitting side-by-side. Once they were both settled, Link leaned over and pulled a bottle from his nightstand. Rhett’s stomach dropped at the sight of the lube.

“Link, I don't know if I'm ready for—”

“Shh.” Link held a finger to his lips. “I know.” He gently took Rhett's hand and lay it across his lap. He pumped a few drops of the cool liquid into Rhett’s palm before guiding his hand to his cock. Still keeping his hand around Rhett’s, he moved their hands together, showing him the pace and pressure he liked. When Rhett had the rhythm, Link took his hand away. Eyes boring into Rhett's, he said in a low voice, “There we go. That's good, Rhett. Just like that.”

The room was silent but for their breathing and the wet sound of Rhett’s hand moving on Link's cock. Link lifted his own hand and poured lube into it. Rhett jumped when Link's hand wrapped around his erection.

“Trust me.” He rested his head against Rhett's shoulder as he began to move his hand.

Though Link’s touch felt incredible, Rhett found himself focusing on other aspects of the moment: the soft whining noises coming from deep in Link's throat, the way Link’s hips moved up to meet the movements of his hand, the sharpness of Link's pointy teeth as he bit into Rhett's shoulder. It had been too long since another person had touched him this way, and even longer since someone had seemed so affected by his touch; Rhett knew he wasn't going to last long. He shut his eyes, concentrating on the way Link's hand moved up and down his length.

Link pulled his mouth away from nibbling on Rhett's shoulder to speak. “Rhett…”

Rhett loved the way his name sounded coming from Link. He shifted his hips up, moving to meet Link's touch. “Yeah, Link. That feels good.”

Link groaned, mouthing at Rhett's shoulder. “So good.” He took in a shuddering breath. “Everything about you is… oh, fuck… so big.” Link’s southern drawl became more pronounced with each word he spoke. Hearing this made Rhett move his hand faster, wanting to see what other sounds Link might produce. He let out a strangled sound of pleasure. “Not gonna last much longer, baby.”

Rhett turned his head, kissing Link as they both increased the speed of their hands. Before long, Link cried out as his orgasm hit him. Moments later, Rhett followed, the wet heat of his own climax landing on his belly.

Later, after they’d cleaned themselves up and their breathing had returned to normal, the two men lay under the silk sheet, Link curled against Rhett, his head resting on his chest.

“I'm sorry we didn’t… _you know_ ,” Rhett said, gesturing with his hands in what he hoped was an accurate pantomime of penetration.

Link giggled softly. “ _You know_? You mean go all the way?”

“Shut up. Yes.”

“If that's your idea of dirty talk, we've got some work to do.”

Rhett grinned at his teasing tone. “Jerk.”

“You love it.” Link kissed his chest. “And it's fine that we didn't _you know_. Did you enjoy what we did?”

“Gosh, yes.”

“Me, too, Rhett. Me, too.” His voice was quiet. Rhett waited for him to say something more, but realized that Link’s breathing had become slower and steadier. He’d fallen asleep wrapped up in Rhett’s embrace.

Rhett wasn’t usually one for cuddling. He liked his space when he slept. But, something about having Link’s body entangled with his own was incredibly comforting. He pressed his shaking hand flat against Link’s back, losing himself in the feeling of Link's lungs expanding and contracting as he snored softly next to him. He felt content in a way he hadn't for a very long time. He knew it was temporary; he knew it couldn't last. Link had made that all too clear. But, for that night, Rhett could pretend there was still a chance for love with this incredible man.


End file.
